


The past always haunts.

by Epselion



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Crossover Pairings, Eventual Smut, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Murder, Plot, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:10:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epselion/pseuds/Epselion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Star Trek/Avengers/Real life persons crossover<br/>Main characters: Khan Noonien Singh, Loki Laufeyson and Tom Hiddleston. (and Kirk I guess.)<br/>Rating: Teen and maybe mature at some point?<br/>Summary: Khan is back, and he is out on revenge. An eye for an eye, Khan has made a pledge to murder each and every member of Kirk's family. But what will really happen if one of Kirk's family members happens to stir up memories that Khan had really not seen coming?<br/>Warning: will contain homosexual relationships as well as a few heterosexual ones, not saying however that this is porn. It's a plot fic, a story okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When darkness no longer slumbers.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't be too hard on any mistakes I make with this. I only saw Into Darkness once I must admit. I do hope you like the story. I made it to bring plot and some smut too, but it is NOT and will not get to be porn alone. So, to all who had thought it was, sorry, it's not. But if you like it a lot, please let me know, I'm even open to some suggestions, unless the mess up the plotline of course. :3

Chapter 1: When darkness no longer slumbers…

 

**Underground archives, section 54:9. London. April 7th 2262, 22:56h.**

“You lose… again.” Peter said with a grin as he put down his cards on the table.  
His colleague groaned and threw his own cards on the surface again.  
“I swear to god, you cheat. You can’t win 8 times in a row.” Vincent pointed at the other man.  
Peter shrugged and took a quick peek at the monitors. It was true that their jobs were hardly called for. Guarding just another section of the vast archives of London, it was softly said a job with low risks. There were just some occasional drunk cases of vandalism. But their weapons, the guns on their belts, they were almost completely for show.  
“I am just a lucky man. Lady Fortuna favours me with that strategic mirror in the corner over there.” Peter answered with a smug grin.  
Vincent let out a disgruntled snort and stood.  
“Don’t you ever wonder what we are actually guarding in this shithole of boredom?”  
“It’s not my job to wonder that.”  
“You’re a boring prick.”  
Peter shrugged and shook the cards again.  
“Maybe being a new dad does that to you.”  
“Oh yeah, how is the little girl?”  
Peter took a paper out of his pocket, showing the picture of his new-born girl to his friend.  
“She’s absolutely beautiful.”  
Vincent nodded in agreement. There was a bit of rustling and Peter looked at the monitors.  
“That’s weird.”  
Vincent turned and looked over his partner’s shoulder.  
“What is? I don’t see anything.”  
“Here. In hangar 6 the temperature just dropped about 8 degrees centigrade. And it corrected itself almost instantly again. Like a cold gust of air.”  
Vincent sighed.  
“Oh no, maybe a book farted.”  
“Shut up you jerk. Maybe someone came in, opened a door.” Peter grabbed his flashlight. “Or would you rather be scrubbing away graffiti tomorrow again?”  
Vincent grunted.  
“Stupid kids.”  
Peter looked at the monitors once again.  
“I don’t see anything, but we should just take a look.”

Five minutes later the two arrived at Hangar 6. Peter lit his own fingers with his flashlight.  
“The doors haven’t been forced open, no faulty codes entered into the log either. They did not get in through here.”  
“Or maybe the air-conditioning just got a little over-excited.” Vincent swayed his flashlight around.  
“You are useless sometimes.”  
Peter closed the maintenance-box again and walked to the control-panel. He opened the door and walked in. While shining the light around he tried to assess if anything had been touched.  
“What’s that on the floor?”  
Vincent had his own light fixed on Peter’s feet. The other man looked down.  
“Water I guess.”  
Peter kneeled and took a few drops to his scanner.  
“It’s cryo-tube fluid.” Peter furrowed his brow. “It must be from the Cryogenic sleeping-dock. You know, those 73 tubes in the back.”  
Vincent nodded and walked to the back, not waiting for Peter to follow. He could immediately spot the misplacement. One tube was on the floor, shattered. He looked at it and shone his light at it. There was a trail leading from it. He kneeled and looked under an angle. Footprints, of bare feet. Like the owner had broken out and just… walked away. He felt a press at the base of his skull.  
“Do not move.” The voice was cold and smooth, the demand simple but deep with meaning.  
Vincent looked up to where he’d left Peter, to call for help.  
What he saw there was enough to make him stumble back anyway. Peter was dead and his skull was just… crushed. He fell back and looked up, crawling away.  
“What kind of man are you?” the other sounded vexed.  
It was a man, with sharp features and such cold eyes.  
“You… you’re Khan…”  
“Oh how observant.” Khan rolled his eyes as he buttoned up the jacket he’d grabbed from elsewhere in the archives. An old Starfleet uniform, from the 21st century.  
“Please! Please don’t kill me. You… I… I won’t say a word. I swear.”  
“Not a word you say? Well that would be highly inconvenient. I require you to deliver a message for me. To a certain captain…”

**Somewhere on the edge of the Gamma Quadrant. April 8th 2262. 01:34h.**

Midnight used to be quiet. People used to actually sleep on this hour, with a minimum number of crew-members to mind the ship. But then again, people also did not usually get a very, very threatening call at midnight. Sulu turned in his chair, the captain’s chair. His to sit on when Kirk wasn’t there, or in this case, snoring in bed.  
“Uhura, wake the captain. It’s urgent.” He said as he looked up from the screen of the private transmission that just came in.  
“What will I tell him it’s about?” she asked, putting down the charts from engine-maintenance she had been reading.  
“Khan.”  
She looked at the lieutenant for a trace of dishonesty when he said that one cursed name. When the man did not take it back or say another word she inclined her head and walked away from the bridge. It echoed in a way, that one word, that one name. And the look on Sulu’s face made her fairly sure that it was not good news about Khan that was to be shared. She walked to the sleeping-quarters and pressed the buzzer next to the door. What would she actually say? She knew nothing yet, just the one thing, the one name. Kirk stumbled out with the most sleep dazed eyes Uhura had seen on a person for a long time. A lazy grin came over his features.  
“You look very good, you and Spock on another anniversary party? Because I am not doing that stripper-act when I’m sober, hate to disappoint you.” He slurred with half a smirk.  
Normally Uhura would have grinned and maybe slapped Kirk a bit. Now her lips just thinned for a moment.  
“Sulu has summoned you to the bridge. There is an urgent transmission coming in for you.”  
“Transmission? What about?”  
Kirk yawned a little and slowly returned to a more alert state of mind.  
“Jim… Sulu said that it was about Khan.”  
She swallowed and anxiously tried to read her friend’s face. Kirk’s half-smile wavered completely and suddenly very alert blue focused fully on Uhura.  
“What about Khan?” he asked with clenched jaw.  
“I don’t know captain. Sulu has only said that it was urgent.”  
He disappeared shortly in his room and appeared a few seconds later, pulling his shirt over his head. He passed Uhura with just a nod, a tense nod before he returned to the bridge.  
“What has roused the captain?” Spock said from behind Uhura’s shoulder.  
“I have.”  
“With what reason?”  
Uhura turned to look at Spock, a tiny smile wavering immediately as she caught his eyes.  
“Because Khan is back.”  
No, she had not been told so with that many words, but what else could cause that much panic around Khan?  
“That is highly illogical.” Spock droned immediately. “Khan has been put back to cryogenic sleep. It is very unlikely that he woke from this sleep without aid.”  
“Well, maybe some sick mind helped him, maybe he tricked it somehow.”  
“How would someone ‘trick’ cryogenic sleep?”  
Uhura sighed.  
“I don’t know Spock… What matters is that he did somehow get back here. And now he’s contacting Kirk. Take some advice and switch off the logic button for once. The captain will not take too good to it at the moment.”  
And that was one thing Spock did understand.

When Kirk arrived on the bridge Sulu was already standing and waiting. His face grave, his eyes dark with a kind of anger that was not a good sign. Kirk gave him a nod and sat in the chair. He looked at the screen, one transmission put on hold.  
“Do you want me to open the line again captain?” Sulu asked, his entire posture tense.  
Kirk nodded and looked at the screen.  
“Show me.”  
For a moment the transmission loaded and then there was a face on the screen. Not Khan. And Kirk almost sighed in relief, even though the person on camera looked very unhealthy. Kirk watched as the young man slowly shifted, hazy grey eyes on the camera again, breathing raggedly.  
“Captain Kirk of the Enterprise?” he asked hopefully.  
Kirk shifted, his gut twisted. Maybe, on second thought, he’d have liked it better to have Khan on screen. This guy looked sick, really sick.  
He was sweating, strands of brown hair sticking to the sides of his face. A pale hue over his features.  
“You must listen well, for I will only say it once.”  
A rehearsed message for sure. The stranger looked to his right as if to ask for something in silence.  
“I speak on behalf of Khan Noonien Singh. A man you should not have crossed captain Kirk.”  
He interrupted to let out a groan and hunch over in pain. There was some rustling and he grabbed a note.  
“I have told you that my crew was my family did I not captain? Since you have destroyed my family, consider this an act of retaliation. From today on, a member of your family will die each day. You would not be able to save them. Tell me captain, how mad would you go if you could not save those you hold dear?”  
The young man crumpled the paper.  
“Consider me an example of future events.”  
Something was handed to the stranger. Kirk sat up straight.  
“Wait! Wait! Tell me where he is! Tell me where I can find that son of a-”  
A loud bang echoed through the speakers and a flash of light blurred all the sights on screen into white for a fraction of a second. When it died out again Kirk slumped in the chair at the sight of the dead body that lay bleeding on the floor.  
“Tic toc captain.”  
Khan’s bodiless echoed through the room before a pair of boots stopped in front of the camera. The screen tilted and shifted until Khan’s face showed up. He was smiling.  
“How fast can your ship go? How many do you think you can save?”  
Kirk got pale. Khan knew very damn well that he had all the time he’d need to carry out his vengeance. They were at the very outskirts of the known universe.  
“I will kill you.” Kirk said, his knuckles turning white around the armrests. “I will rip you up and burn all that’s left, see how you regenerate from that you dick!”  
“Tut tut captain. Such bad tongue.”  
Khan looked at the body behind him.  
“In my defence… He did kill himself, I only handed him the gun.”  
“But you also made him hurt enough to want to die!” Kirk stood now, trying to lose that tension in his limbs, that urge to destroy something just to ease his fury.  
“Well, he did ask me not to kill him. I complied.”  
“You’re sick.”  
Khan chuckled darkly.  
“You are wasting precious time with your slander captain. You should use your time to try and run home, and save what will be left of those you held dear.”  
Kirk screamed at him in rage. Not a word would do to make his point come across any differently.  
“I must go now captain. But fret not, you’ll hear from me again soon.”  
The transmission broke and an icy silence crept over the bridge. Kirk screamed again and started raining punches on the screen, as if the window could still hurt Khan, as if it would somehow transmit his violence to that man’s face.  
Sulu grabbed him, cornering his arms against his chest. Kirk fought it, trying to stumble away.  
“Captain! Captain you must contain yourself.” the lieutenant said with effort. “You are not doing yourself or anyone a favour with hurting yourself!”  
Uhura and Spock entered too.  
“Can one of you fetch Bones? I think he broke a hand.” Sulu said as he managed to just about squeeze the calm into Kirk.  
Uhura immediately nodded and walked away, answers would come later she was sure of that.  
When the other man slumped and breathed out steadily again he slowly set him on his knees again. Kirk succumbed to an almost apathy, staring ahead as his mind tried to wrap itself around his desperation. Spock looked at Sulu. The Asian thinned his lips and shook his head.  
Spock kneeled to Kirk’s level.  
“Captain?”  
“He is going to kill everyone Spock.” Kirk said hollowly.  
“I do not understand what you mean to say captain. Without an army or mass destructive weapon Khan is not capable of a complete genocide.”  
“No Spock. My family. He is going to kill each and every person in my family. One each day. And I can never be home quick enough to save them.”  
Spock looked at his friend. He looked broken. He quickly did some math. With their current location and the warping possibilities they would need a total of 35 days to return to Earth. And that would be the quickest schedule. He opened his mouth to say so. But he remembered what Uruha said. And he saw the way Kirk looked so shattered within, it withheld him from doing so.  
“You have amazed me with solving impossible scenarios before captain. I would say it is highly improbable that we will find a way home to be in time. But if there is someone who would be able to prove me wrong once again I believe that would be you.”  
Kirk looked up, a light frown on his features.  
“Highly improbable you say?” he repeated weakly.  
Spock nodded.  
“But not impossible.” He added.  
“I think I’ve worked with highly improbable before.” Kirk stood, wiping his bloody hand on his trousers.  
“Mr. Chekov. What is the quickest warp schedule back to Earth?”  
“At least…. 35 days Captain.”  
Kirk nodded. Uhura returned with Bones shortly after. Unasked the doctor started to probe Kirk’s injured hand.  
“Mmm yes, that feels like a fracture right there.”  
Uhura looked at Spock.  
“I think you would do best to think of a solution in a quieter place captain.” Spock said. “As always, your crew will look after the ship.”  
Bones nodded in agreement.  
“Yeah, I should patch you up if you want to hold a spoon tomorrow.”  
“If anything changes, if Khan as much as says a word to us, we will come to report captain.” Sulu added.  
Kirk looked at his crew and gave them a quick nod of gratitude.  
“I want everyone to look at each possible loop-hole in the system, anything you can find to get us back to Earth faster.”  
“Yes captain.” The answer was unanimous.  
“Let’s hope the son of a bitch gets run-over by a car in the meantime.” Kirk grumbled as he followed after Bones towards the sickbay.  
He could no longer think straight, so far he had no idea how he could save any family member. 35 days was enough for Khan to wipe away everyone he cared for deeply. Well, except the ones here on the Enterprise. But that was such a mild comfort that it stung. All he could really think about was who he would lose first. What tomorrow, would bring. Because tomorrow, or maybe even sooner, this would get very real for him, very very real. He wanted to call everyone and tell them how important they were in his life. Tell them to run to safety. But Khan would find them anyway. And Kirk somehow thought it would be better if they would not live in bitter fear of the end these last days.  
“Captain?” Bones tried again.  
“What?” he looked up in half confusion.  
“Are you okay? Buddy…”  
Kirk looked away again, staring out of the window into the darkness of space.  
“We’re light-years away from home Bones… What kind of man am I? I cannot even be there to protect the ones I love.”  
“You can’t blame yourself for this. Khan must have planned for this, must have known that you would be nowhere near. We’ll burn his wretched ass. And everybody on this ship will do whatever it takes to get you home to your family cap. We all will.”  
The doctor wrapped up Kirk’s hand after placing the stabilisers to heal the fracture. Sulu came in shortly after that. He looked pale as a ghost.  
“Captain.”  
Kirk immediately lost all colour in his face. In this context he didn’t need to ask what it was about.  
“Who is it?”


	2. Dropping like flies

**Apartment-block north-side 89,Iowa. April 15 th 2262\. 20:32h.**

Seven days, seven days had passed since the first message had come in. And every day there had been more messages. By now Tom was fairly sure that the family was cursed. Now he wasn’t a Kirk, but he was as close to family as one could get without being blood-related. He was sitting in a chair, watching as Winona went about the house rather frantically. Arranging three funerals, attending four more. It made his own stomach sink too.

“Is there nothing I can help you with?” he asked again, for the seventh time past hour.

“No, I must keep busy.” She flipped her greying hair back and returned to the kitchen again to pick up the folders from another set of casket flowers where she’d left them.

Tom sighed and sat back. At the moment it was in fact a benefit that James was somewhere on the edges of space. Whatever, or whoever, had set out on wiping out all that carried the name Kirk would have to do one hell of an effort to get to Jim.

“In all honesty dear, I think you should worry about yourself more.”

She did pause for a moment to look at Tom in confusion.

“Well, your last name is Kirk too Winona. Who knows, maybe that monster has set its next cross-hares on you. Instead of arranging the departure of the dead you should try to make sure that you are not next.” He elaborated.

She stared for another moment.

“I will not be hiding. I won’t.” She let out a heavy sigh and slumped in another chair.

“Why not? You are in constant danger. How can you not be worried for your life?”

He stood up, it was getting late, he still had to eat and go back home. But he wouldn’t leave until Winona was okay.

“I refuse to let someone dictate my life. I mean, he killed George’s nephew Steven yesterday, and Steven was in India. Where would I go? Clearly this maniac knows how to find us. So why would I want to spend my possible last days in a strange place, in fear of my life? I’d rather be here, for the family. It’s a family-trait.”

Tom shook his head, George had been just the same kind of person.

“What about you? If this is your vision then why haven’t you run away yet?”

The Brit looked at her again with a mild frown.

“I’m not a Kirk. He’s only killed those with George’s name or your maiden name.”

“You’re pretty much part of the family.”

“I don’t really have someone I’d leave behind alone if I’d die, and still, I’m not real family. He won’t be coming for me.”

There was silence for a while. Then Winona turned and grabbed her agenda.

“I have a lot to do. We’ll talk tomorrow. It’s late, you should probably head back too.”

Tom nodded slowly. He really did not want to upset her any more.

“But I will be calling in the morning to make sure you’re alright.”

“I hadn’t expected you to do any less. You have all week.”

“Well George did give me only one simple thing to do when he died.”

Winona looked up to two very grave pale blue eyes.

“Yes, to keep me and Jim safe. And you have. But this is not something you can stop. George would have understood that Tom. You should really not blame yourself if anything would happen.”

“But I would. I mean… I broke that promise once already and doing it again wasn’t on my list.”

“Tom, the other time was on the demise of the USS Kelvin, nobody blames you for not being with us when we were trying to get home, because you had half your flesh torn from you.”

Winona patted his shoulder.

“George liked you a lot, you were a great friend for him, and you are family to the rest of us now. End of story, drive safe.”

“And you stay safe. If you have the feeling anything is out of place you just call.”

“Yes, yes. Go on Thomas, it’s getting dark.”

Tom inclined his head and muttered a quick bye as he left. The dark did in fact get an extra creepiness since past events. He wasn’t fearful, he usually even thought that the streetlights and night silence had a certain appeal. But for now he was kind of happy he could drive home, in a safe confined space that shielded him from the world.

He closed the car-doors. And let out a sigh, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. He had barely slept a wink these past days. He would keep waking up between short nightmares. Not just nightmares, but real memories and blurry experiences of fear. Things he’d barely even thought about in years, things he’d chosen to forget.

He looked around to find no traffic near and pulled out of his parking spot. He was quite tired, tonight he would probably sleep through, but not easy.

 

**The Enterprise. April 15 th 2262\. 20:36h.**

 

Everyone on the Enterprise had to agree, Captain Kirk was an absolute mess. The first day he had been driven, coaching his crew to make the ship travel as quick as it would go. He had been shouting and on edge. But he had been driven. As if maybe he had not quite realized what would be happening the next days. But that very evening of the first day there had been another transmission. Kirk had quite eagerly responded, probably in hopes of startling Khan with the progress he had made and scaring him off. Only he had not gotten Khan in front of him. No, it had started. Uhura had remembered how pale Kirk had gone when the blood-splattered face of his aunt had appeared on the screen. For a moment she had even expected the captain to faint. That short moment of ragged breathing and Kirk’s dead silence had been interrupted when Khan had spoken.

“I have decided to be friendly today. I give you the chance to say goodbye to this one… Captain.”

This time Khan had not appeared, simply stated it. Kirk had stayed silent, contemplating between a fit of rage and taking this chance to say goodbye to a loved one. Uhura would have put her money on the first. That was why she was surprised when a very tense Kirk sat down in the chair and looked at the screen, starting to tell his aunt that he loved her, that all would be okay, that he would always remember the good times like she had asked. It made everyone on the bridge fall silent and just listen. Nobody would think of speaking, there were some that even cried over the sadness of it. Eventually Kirk faltered too and fell silent again.

“Oh Captain. I am so touched.” Khan said with a hint of a chuckle. “I do hope that it was all you wanted to say. Because time’s up now.”

There had been a glint of steel and the whole screen had ended up spattered with blood as Khan had slit the woman’s throat.

“Goodnight Captain. Dream of me.” Had been Khan’s closing word before the screen had gone black.

It had been the first blow. Kirk had gotten aggressively eager to go home. He would scream and yell and anyone who would inform him of his impossible desire could even count on a good punch in the face. On the second night, and the nights after, Khan would open transmissions, overriding the ship’s blocking capabilities so that Kirk would have to see. This time he would leave no time for goodbyes. He would show a recording of his latest work. There would be a set of sneering remarks, to which Kirk would react in rage and desperation at first. And then it would end again. After three days Kirk stopped yelling at Khan, after four he just sat and waited. After five he looked sucked dry. He stopped eating and drinking mostly. He stopped ordering people around. He just stopped everything.

He had wanted to contact everyone, tell them to run to safety, coming back on his earlier decision. But in order to gain another two days on the schedule they had to take all transmitters out. The only thing they had were the messages coming in on Khan’s line. So they were alone, and he could warn nobody, call nobody, see nobody. Kirk had gone empty.

“Can’t you talk to him Spock?” Uhura asked as she saw Kirk poke his food around with hollow eyes.

Spock looked up from his own plate and briefly let his eyes go over their captain.

“I do not belief there are any words that can bring the captain out of this state.”

Uhura shook her head.

“Spock, he needs us. All of us. This isn’t about possibilities or numbers. He has to know that we care. That he still has us.”

“I suppose I could always try.” Spock pushed his chair back and walked to Kirk. “Trying to kill your food has no use Captain, I can confirm that it is already dead.”

Kirk slowly looked up, his eyes a little surprised.

“Did you just try to make a joke Spock?”

“Affirmative. But given that you had to ask, it must have failed in being amusing.”

The Vulcan sat down and looked as Kirk smiled a little.

“It’s okay, I appreciate the gesture.”

“We are all worried for your well-being captain. You have not been yourself as of late. It is important that you do not give up. It is exactly what Khan is aiming for.”

Kirk frowned a little and grabbed something from his pocket, paper. Spock knew that the captain hardly ever wrote by hand, all the ship-logs and messages were typed out. This was something personal. It looked like a list. Kirk brushed a hand through his messed up hair. He had been lacking in his will to maintain his hygiene as of late too.

“Do you know how it feels to have to cross off a member of your family? One every day, so you can see who is still left?”

“I do not Captain, most of my family all died at once with the destruction of Vulcan.”

Kirk grabbed the paper a little tighter and closed his eyes, the blue of them had been glistening with tears again. He looked into Spock’s eyes. They were dark and alert as ever, but Kirk could see a little hint of pain in them as he triggered the memory of losing his home.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you remember that.”

“That is fine captain, I know you did not intend for that. But I do strongly take offense that you let Khan win like this. You should fight to let as many names on that list as possible survive. Giving up is like giving them up.”

“But what can I do? We tried everything, and we gained only five days on the schedule. That is still a month of travel, that is thirty people to lose Spock.”

“And since when would you settle with impossible?”

Kirk snorted a little, returning to poke in his food.

“There is a limit to everything Spock. Khan knows damn well that he has the time of the world.”

Spock sighed and looked back at the rest.

“Captain, your crew is most dedicated, we will do anything. But please do not give up.”

Kirk looked out of the window, shaking his head just slightly. Spock slowly stood up again and returned to the table with Uhura and the others.

“Well, I tried.” Spock sighed as they all looked up hopefully.

Uhura patted his arm as he sat.

“And trying was enough. I’m proud of you.”

The doors slid open and Scotty hurried in.

“Captain! Captain! I can get us home faster!” he shouted.

Kirk snapped out of his wallowing and looked at Scotty.

“How?” he asked with a sharp tone.

“Well, it is quite dangerous… You see, I could be right and we could half the time of our travel. Or I could be horribly wrong and everything blows up and kills all of us.”

Kirk looked at the crew.

“And how big are the odds that you would be wrong and kill us all?”

“Well… You have me for being an expert right?” Scotty fumbled a bit with the pin on his jacket.

He didn’t like to have all eyes on him.

“What are the numbers? I do not wish to kill everyone in some wild fit to get home.”

“Well, it has never been attempted captain. So I would in fact say the chances are umm…. Fifty-fifty?”

Kirk looked at his crew.

“I would take any risk to get back to my family fast. But you are family too. If you do not wish to take that risk then neither will I.”

They all mumbled a little, a short discussion that only lasted a few seconds.

“Captain, we can all tell you that fifty-fifty are odds none of us think worth considering.” Uhura said with a thin smile. “We will be right behind you. Every step of the way.”

 

**Abandoned house in block C, Iowa. April 15th 2262. 22:48h.**

Khan sat in the scruffy chair in the back of the living room, through the boards that had been nailed on the windows there was still moonlight coming in. Khan did not like the modern world so much. In a way he longed for the nostalgia and remainders of his time, of the 20th century. He rubbed his thumb over the cherry-wood armrest of the chair. The cushioning was torn and old. The dark green it had been had almost faded to a filthy grey. The whole house lingered in a lost time, covered in a layer of dust, a dead home. Khan set his eyes on the coffee-table again. The thing was made out of carved cherry-wood too. A masterpiece of a good wood-carver. It contrasted so much with his arsenal of weaponry that he’d spread out over it. Warm, beautiful wood against clinic, cold steel. So far the murders had not filled his void. Seeing Kirk go half mad from the pain he was causing was… soothing at times. But even the most vicious slashes and deaths would not do to satisfy his emptiness. He had gutted one, he had burned one alive, he had chopped one to bits. But it did not do. Maybe… maybe because he was trying to take revenge on the wrong person. Trying to push away what caused his real pain. The fact that he could no longer punish the man who cost him his…. Everything. In a way he was settling for Kirk to direct that hatred to. It would just have to do. He clenched his jaw. It would just have to do… He closed his eyes as he felt a wave of nausea in his gut. Somebody had to pay for his loss. He waited for the moment of weakness to pass and let out a shaky breath, blinking at the sting in his eyes. He could not allow himself to crumble now. Tonight another would die, such was certain. All he had to do for now was pick the weapon, the way he would make Captain James T. Kirk shatter again this time. He’d gotten the address for his intended victim this afternoon. An apartment, so he could not have yelling or screaming. It would have to be clean. This one would get off easy then.

He grabbed a curved blade, the polished silver mirroring his eyes as he studied it, sharp on both ends, this thing could do some serious damage. He slipped the dagger in place on his belt. He’d traded the uniform he’d stolen from the archives for something a little more common. A black turtle-neck and a jacket, nosing through a few people’s belongings had been easy enough. He just hoped these clothes could stay clean for once, he’d had to replace his garments every time he’d killed so far. It was a petty complaint, whining over blood-stains you had put there yourself. Death was becoming a little to normal for him.

In the distance a clock rang its bells, 11PM. Now it would have to be quiet enough to carry out his task. He rolled up the cloth with weapons and put it back in the TV-cabinet where he’d hidden it before. The door let out an ominous creaking as he headed out again. Tonight was bright, the stars littered across the dark sky and the moon giving everything a silver glow.

Khan headed away from the abandoned streets of old time and into the city core. It was strange how quickly the whole landscape changed from something familiar to a world of high-tech that he was still hardly familiar with. The streets were little short of deserted, every now and then a hover-car would pass by, its silent pulse of the generator humming away in the distance. He looked at his PDA quickly, casually to see if he was still heading the right way.

Eventually he ended up at another high tower of apartments, a flat. Khan walked by it a few times to quickly study the entrance. It had a night-lock. A code pad at the front hall so only the occupants would be able to come in. Khan grabbed a small tool from his pocket a walked to the building. He looked around to find that he was still alone and attached the small clip to the wires of the code pad. A blue light indicated the device’s activity until the screen of the pad lit up and filled in the code by itself. There was a light beep and the glass doors slid open for Khan to pass. He pocketed the decoder and headed to the elevators in one go. He clicked the button on his distorter, the cameras should not see his face. Kirk knew who was killing his family, but he liked to have the police guessing. Kirk was far enough away not to disturb him in his work, but a man-hunt could set him back quite a lot. He travelled to the sixth floor unseen and when he stepped out he was again met by a deserted hallway. Good. Like faith finally favoured him this once. This would be the easiest kill he’d made.

He walked to the right door, taking a quick peek at the window. No lights on inside, his target must be sleeping.

“Perfect.” He mumbled to himself.

He took out the decoder tool again to override the key-panel. He heard some noise, an elderly woman passing by. Khan greeted her casually and slipped the clasp around the wires. There were a few beeps and then the door popped loose from its frame. He was in, but the hardest part would be to leave without a person having suspicions.

He entered and closed the door behind him again with no more than a sigh. It was dead silent inside the apartment. No wind blowing like outside. And at this height one could not hear the sound of traffic below. Khan looked around. This guy was tidy, the entire hallway was clean and neat, shoes put in a straight line under the coats on the rack. Khan carefully put his fingers to the surface of the living-room door. It opened with a sigh and Khan looked inside. There was a package of take-out boxes on the coffee-table, a laptop buried under several pieces of paper. Clearly he had been working on something. Khan picked up some of the paper, stories. Pages of a novel. Shame he’d have to die, he was a good writer.

Khan put the paper back and headed to the door on the right. He took the dagger from his belt as he stepped into the bedroom. It was dark, moonlight barely made it into the room through a few slits of light between the curtains. It was almost silvery blue, the light. It cast its glow on all the light furniture. Most was pale wood and white to give the small apartment a sense of space.

The other man was curled up in his sheets, oblivious to Khan’s presence. There was only a trace of brown curly hair sticking up from above the sheets. Khan snorted a little and inched closer. His target was fast asleep, he couldn’t have asked for a better kill. Easy and quiet. He took out the recorder from his coat-pocket, keeping sharp, blue eyes on the heap of human as he started it up. He secured the knife in his hand and held it up to strike. He approached, quiet enough that his footsteps made no sound against the woodwork flooring. He put the recorder on his shoulder with the clip so he would have both hands free to carry out his murder. Utterly carefully he grabbed the tip of the blanket to peel back the sheets, he couldn’t slice a jugular without seeing it properly. He licked his lips to catch the sweat that formed with his anxiety. He quickly tugged at the blanket to pull it back. The sheets came off easily, revealing the person that had been under it. Khan instinctively sought the jugular. He saw the vein under some very pale white skin. His eyes momentarily fluttered up to the other’s face. And right then, the world just stopped for Khan.

“No… This can’t be.”

 


	3. Ghosts

****

**Jotunheimen, camps in the valley.  June 17 th 1996\. 00:49h.**

With as much silence as he could manage Khan moved through the green vegetation of the hilltop he was climbing. He kept telling himself how much of an idiot he was being, that he was putting himself through more risks than logic allowed him to pass through. But so far he had been having dumb luck. He had taken a plane to Norway, a long flight that had left him blessedly undetected. It had gotten a little difficult at the airport, people had noticed a flaw in his fake ID but it was just put off as an old card, luckily. But he would do it again too. Because a safe escape meant nothing if he could not make it without the one he loved most. He finally reached the top of the hill and looked down below to the lights of camp. So primitive, tents. He carefully started on his way down. It had taken some time to track his lover. He had completely fallen off the map after his defeat two months ago. But he knew who it was that had defeated him, and Thor would not leave his little brother to rot. No, Loki would be isolated and put in prison when things were calm again. In the meantime, Odinson had come up with this. He was grateful for the man for once. To break Loki out of prison would have been much harder than to get the man out of this little camp. It was a warm night, the air cool but never cold as he rustled through the leaves. He entered camp by the supply-tents, hiding behind the boxes as he studied the different structures to assess where to find his Loki.

“When will we move again?” Khan heard a voice ask.

“In a few days.” Thor’s voice said. “I have arranged transport for Loki but it has yet to arrive.”

“He doesn’t deserve it you know…” the other countered.

“Loki is a human being!”

“I doubt it. He did some pretty in-humane things. ”

“Do not speak like that of him!”

“Jesus Thor he tried to kill you.”

“He is just confused! That project he was in changed him…”

“Stop trying to excuse his behaviour Thor. Loki is a war-criminal and a monster.”

“He is MY brother!”

"He WAS. Once he was. But Christ Thor. That thing we keep locked up only bears his face now. Loki is dead."  
Khan watched from behind the crates as Thor vigorously shook his head. Of course that oaf still believed in his sweet baby brother. But Khan knew better. He had not known Loki before the program. But he knew the man it had created. Loki was powerful, intelligent and calculating. There was nothing sweet about him. Khan loved him to death. He waited for the men to leave and headed into the camp. There was one tent with a wooden floorboard under it. So the soil would not offer a way out. That was where Loki was.

He looked around one more time to make sure he would not run into anyone and made a run for the tent. He stayed low and when he reached the white canvas he was still unnoticed. This was so simple. He knew that Loki even knew that as well. He could have broken out with all the ease in the world, probably even take a snack and some clean clothes on the way. But why didn’t he?

He checked the close, the zippers were locked together with a code-lock. Khan let out a bit of a laugh at it and held the pad under his flashlight, he could see which buttons were littered with finger-prints right away. But he also knew that Thor wasn’t too great on numbers so it would be something he knew. A birthday, a year, a house number or postal code from where they lived once. But when he saw the numbers that were to be included he almost rolled his eyes at the simplicity. Loki’s birthday.

His fingers were quick to pad in the keys. The soft beep confirmed his hunch that he was right and he took the lock off. The zippers were simple… This was all child’s play for Loki. He could have gone out of here within five minutes of his arrival. Khan was getting worried. Clearly he was still here, Thor had eyes on him every day at least. His lips thinned and he zipped open the tent and let himself in. The floor was covered in a total of twenty different carpets. Thor had no sense of decoration, it almost hurt to look at that floor. On the far end was a simple matrass, square, to the point, with some grey sheets and a pillow. Thor was taking good care of his brother. He could see the telling bulge of a human form under the sheets and walked over slowly. Loki was asleep. He kneeled down next to the matrass and peeled away the blanket a bit. Yes… Loki’s face. He was fast asleep, too deep. Loki had the perception and instincts of a predator, he should have woken up even before Khan touched the lock to his tent. Cryo-sleep. Thor had neutralized the danger that was Loki by shutting him down. Asleep Loki was a danger to nobody. Khan sighed and let his thumb go over the smooth skin of his lover’s cheek. He had missed that porcelain skin, he had missed those long black eyelashes, the thin lips, those raven hairs. He had missed the touch of them.

“Oh Loki… I missed you.” He muttered.

When his ache of being separated for so long had faded he slowly peeled back the sheets. Loki was dressed in soft pajamas of black cotton. They were good quality as expected really. He saw the small punctures in Loki’s arm where the liquid was injected. Thor was waking him up and putting him under multiple times. That meant that he would keep the injections somewhere near here too. Khan roamed around the tent, looking for a stash, a box, a compartment. He would not leave without Loki tonight. That much was certain. It took a while before Khan realized that the box was not here. That would mean Thor was keeping it on him. Well, that WAS a problem. Without the antidote to pull Loki out of his induced sleep there was no use in taking him away… Khan huffed and let his fingers go through Loki’s hair. So close, he was so close…

There had to be a way to cut Thor out of this equation. Subdue him as he came to wake Loki? No, there was nowhere to hide, and Thor was like a giant. He was strong as a bear and he wasn’t dumb either. Of course he was less smart than Loki and him, but dumb? No. He bit his nails and looked around. But of course. Thor was carrying around a dosage only. The supply-tent had to hold the back-up flasks to keep Loki asleep for longer periods, and also more antidote to wake him up more often. He just had to get his hands on an unused flask and a syringe. He softly kissed Loki’s forehead.

“I’ll be back shortly, my beautiful Loki. I promise.” He said as he left his lover and locked up the tent once again to get what he would need to wake him.  
  
**Apartment-block south-side 157,Iowa. April 15 th 2262\. 23:34h.**

Khan had no idea what he was doing, his blood was frozen in his body. Every muscle, every sense, it all came to a halt. This was stupid. What if the man woke up? He would see him! He would disarm him while he was just standing here like a fool. He pressed the tip of his blade to the man’s jugular again. His blood rushed. This wasn’t him. This was not his Loki. He could not be his Loki. The man’s name was Tom. Thomas William Hiddleston, a dear friend of Kirk’s father. He was about 60, but had spent long years in cryo from a terrible set of injuries after the demise of the USS Kelvin. His face and body were therefore about 30 years old. Khan had seen his life, he could not be Loki.

 But the face, the face of his lover was the same as his. And he could not set his blade into the neck of Loki. He could not convince himself that this was a completely different person. Not with that face. His face contorted as his hand started shaking, and with a pained grunt he removed the dagger from his own grip, setting it back at his side. He breathed heavily, his eyes stung with tears. Tears! He was fighting tears over a stranger. He stepped back, his chest heaving as he put a hand over his face. Tom Hiddleston… He could not kill him. The man remained asleep, luckily Khan was still silent in his daze. If the other man had woken up… well… God knows what would have happened. He secured his blade back to his side, on his belt where it could no longer do harm. He stayed like that for a while, standing there. He was starting to get more aware of his surroundings.

This apartment was definitely one of the newer kind. The modern. Most of the walls and furniture were white or light wood, giving it a lot of light and space. This Tom had made something of it, mostly filling his empty space with books. There were easy tablets to use for reading, downloading all books that were written since the dawn of time. But as a novelist and writer he figured the physical touch and feeling of a proper book was a must.  In his bedroom the man kept two bookcases full of them, his bed was against the far wall, the window above it casting in a line of moonlight that came through the crack between the curtains. The sheets were a dark blue, creating something like a dark sea around his pale body. The rest of the room was mostly personalized with several little ornaments, probably quite personal to the man, to Khan half of them did not make sense. It felt weird at some point, standing in the man’s house without the other even aware of his presence, just looking at where he lived, and each time Khan felt his eyes go back to Tom. He felt weird, he felt completely put off.

The one thing that had been certain for tonight had crumbled. It had been certain that this man would die tonight, in his hunger for revenge and lust for blood, this man was going to pass. Only, he had not killed him, and the longer he was standing there, the more certain he was that he was not going to do it. No, Tom Hiddleston would not die tonight.

 

**The Enterprise. April 16 th 2262\. 01:54h.**

 

With renewed vigour the Enterprise crew had been working today. They were preparing the ship for Scotty’s travel-plan. It was quite some work. It would cost them two days, maybe three to transfer the powerlines, the drives, half of the ship’s core… Many things had to be replaced to get them to travel quicker. But the 3 days they would lose doing this they would win back by cutting their travelling time back to 6 days instead of a little under 30. Kirk returned to the bridge when midnight drew closer. Khan always opened his transmissions around midnight. Well, midnight back home. They lived by their rhythm back home in America, out here in space time-zones didn’t really apply after all when you were deep in space. But it was almost 2am now and there was nothing.

“Sulu… Did we lose power to our communications?”

“No, we can’t transmit but we are still receptive for signals. If Khan is calling he can come through easily, there’s no sign of any radio-traffic calling in.”

Kirk nodded. He felt a near relief that it seemed that nobody died tonight. But heavier than his relief was the anticipation and dread that it could mean that Khan was planning something bigger. Something worse.

“We really can’t call outwards?” he asked carefully.

“Sorry captain, we can’t. We would have to start up systems that are all taken apart for the big warp and we would lose power that we need to fire the core.”

Kirk nodded.

“Maybe they have him. The police. Surely they are looking for him.”

“You think? We gave the police nothing to go by. Nobody on Earth knows that it’s Khan. They won’t have leads, he makes sure to not have a signature to alert people of a serial killer… I don’t think he’s been caught. At best he’s walked against a hick-up. He has to leave out a night. Or worse… He’s planning something bigger. Something… that takes more planning.”

The doors slid open and Spock came in.

“No news yet Captain?”

Kirk slowly shook his head, body deflating. He sat sagged in the chair, he was tired. This time not from his whirl of emotions, no, tonight was from all the work they had done. He was tired and used up.

“Well, that does not have to be a bad thing. Statistically speaking the odds are equal that it is 50% likely on either side…. But I do think it is a good thing captain, call it gut-feeling.”

Kirk snickered a little and shook his head, blue eyes drifting out of the window shortly.

“Gut feeling huh? Well I suppose that solves the whole dilemma.”

He smiled lightly. They were all standing in a line, his dear friends. They all looked worn out, tired, worked to the max.

“As long as no news comes, let us just assume it’s good news. There is nothing we can do up here anyway.” He stood and stretched.

“You all worked hard, we’ll put the ship in slumber mode so that we only need two people on the bridge, just get to bed and sleep a good night. Tomorrow we will hopefully get the last things ready to fire off into the warp.”

 

For a moment the others seemed to consider complaining, saying they were not tired, that they could work another full night if needed. But those would be nothing more than big fat lies. They did need a few hours of sleep, or they would make critical mistakes in the whole process of rewiring the ship. And nobody wanted that fatal mistake on their conscience. Slowly they all dispersed off to bed, for the first time now without phantom screams in their heads or images that were still swimming across their retinas of another death. It was oddly peaceful actually. Still, it did not feel right, it felt ominous.

 

**Apartment-block south-side 157,Iowa. April 16 th 2262\. 10:26h.**

Tom woke up the morning after his meeting with Winona on a time later than he usually kept to. He could have expected it. He had been sleeping awfully these past few days. He wasn’t worried, but shaken nonetheless. However, his decision to take his latest work to bed and write on it until he felt sleep lurk had been his best call in a good long while. He rolled on his back with a soft grunt, the sheets had left their mark all over his body, the creases and folds had made light impressions over the expanse of his skin.

He needed more sunlight, he decided when the sight of the sharp light from outside hit his arm in a sleek white beam, almost blinding him when it reflected on his pale skin. He did not colour in the sun… Not really, he got freckles, here and there. Specks of brown like little droplets of paint on a white canvas. He sat up straight and let the blankets pool into his lap. He rubbed his face as he adjusted to the sunlight that filled his room. His eyes squeezed shut every time he looked to the window again, his pupils rapidly slinking away to the middle of his light eyes. They were blue, his eyes, a light shade, clear like water, and colouring along with environments, from blue like summer-skies to grey like a winter puddle, or the lightest of greens. But they were always soulful. Tom wore his heart on his sleeve. It was what made him a good writer, but it was also a thing that got him mocked and bullied because he was emotional. He opened his curtains with a firm press on the pad that operated his house from different access-points.

He paused however when he found the orange light blinking at the top. The apartment system kept track of all the devices used in his home, and when it picked up unusual errors it put them in a log. Tom just huffed, probably that bug in the kitchen again. He hoped the fridge hadn’t blinked out for two hours again. Last time the smell of sour milk had been unbearable.  He pressed a few buttons to call up the log. It wasn’t the power in the kitchen. The lock. It had been accessed twice from outside, once when Tom had come home last night, and one more time somewhere around 11. Tom thought it was a bug in the system, but there was another log going out again about half an hour later.

Tom hopped out of bed, shaking down the pant-leg of his pyjamas. He only wore the pants, the apartment was always warm. He walked back to the front door and opened it, looking at the pad outside. It looked ordinary enough, nothing wrong. But Tom could see the small blue light that was blinking just around the side. He shifted the lock slightly and took off the clip. A decoder. Someone had broken into his house? He ran back in, slamming the door behind him. What did they take? Not his laptop, not his old books which were worth a fortune nowadays… please. But there was nothing missing, nothing. Not his wallet, even though it was in plain sight, his laptop which was only under three sheets of paper, his phone, his books… Nothing had been stolen.

Suddenly he felt cold. The killings… Was he next? Did that… monster scour the place to make a plan to murder him. Tom swallowed, suddenly wide awake. Oh dear god… He shot back into the bedroom, grabbing the first top he could find and pulling it over his head, the curls on his head shortly bouncing up as they pulled through the hole for his head. He returned to the living room, his fingers shaking when he cleared the paper from his laptop and started it up. Maybe it was a bug…. Maybe he didn’t close the door… But the decoder… Why would- He was rubbing his neck almost compulsively, the skin reddening under the rough treatment of his own hand. He stopped then, his fingers tracing the ridge of a small crust. It could not have been more than a few drops when it bled. But it was right on his jugular. A tiny spot… Almost like the tip of a blade pressing- He felt the air leave his lungs. His fingers now shook so much that he had to retype his password three times. He had surveillance, he could see if anyone entered his house. He would be able to tell… Right? Or would the cameras have been offline? No. No, he needed to know. He couldn’t just go on knowing, suspecting, that his house had been invaded, his skin broken. And he had not even known it. He logged into the camera feeds and waited before the libraries had loaded. He did not even realize that he was trembling until he failed to fix his hair properly. He was scared. He got up to make breakfast while the recordings of last night loaded for view. He made toast and eggs, but he almost burned himself three times.

“God damnit. Get a grip.” He hissed at himself.

He worked down his breakfast and watched the cameras, for a while he just watched himself go around the house yesterday, do some work, making dinner, watching the news, all that. He skipped through until the timer hit somewhere around 11:30 at night. Tom almost turned white as a sheet as the door from the hallway into his apartment was slowly pushed open, a man sneaking in, taking a look around, his hand curled around something in his pocket. Tom was numb as he watched him move to his bedroom. There was someone in his home. He watched a steel blade slide out, coming down to his own sleeping form. And then it halted. The man just stopped, frozen. Tom could not see who it was, what had stopped him, but for more than a minute the image seemed to freeze. Then, slowly, the other backed up. As he turned Tom paused the screen, looking at the blurred face of his assailant. Khan Noonien Singh. Tom swallowed and then leaned over to study the image of the man.

“Why did you let me live?”


End file.
